Explosive (The Black Opals) (11 page)

T h i r t e e n

D
awn came entirely too early for Jayce. He rolled over against the sunlight with a muffled groan, protesting the way he ached from head to toe. All night he relived Alyssa’s impassioned cries. All night he replayed the way her body welcomed his. He could still hear her ragged voice, calling out his name as she trembled against his tongue.

Poison.
Alyssa Martin was poison.

He pushed himself out of bed, determined to ignore the heavy weight of his erection beneath his cotton sleep pants.
Poison she might be, but damned she was sweet. And he was as addicted as he’d ever been.

Jayce jerked open his bedroom door and trudged to the bathroom for a hot shower.
Thumping and clattering came from the kitchen, telling him his sister was awake. Cooking? That ought to be interesting. Last he knew, Jordan couldn’t microwave frozen pizza without setting off the smoke detectors. He sure hoped things had changed; he was starving, and in no mood to fix her failed attempt over a stove. He’d rather take them both out for greasy fast food.

Not that he was any better in the kitchen, but at least his meager knowledge lent to edible food.

Alyssa on the other hand—she’d always been natural.

With a heavy sigh, Jayce spun on the faucets.
His wallet was still somewhere in her bedroom. Which meant he couldn’t avoid her until he left town. Damn it. But maybe if he timed it right he could catch McTavish there, much as he wanted to see him even less than Alyssa, and wouldn’t have to confront her at all.

He eased beneath the steamy spray and leaned against the tiled wall, closing his eyes.
No job he’d done, no amount of undercover work, had ever been as difficult as walking out of her room pretending indifference. He ached to hold her, as nonsensical as it was. Just for a few minutes, with nothing between them but the easy comfort they’d once shared. To experience her kiss and get lost in all the crazy passion she so easily awakened inside him.

He’d almost had that too, last night.
For a few priceless moments it had been just the two of them.

A vision of her soft expression as she glanced up at him from her knees burst to life in his mind.
Those satin lips were so much more devastating than memories allowed. He fit perfectly between them, and goddamn, her tongue was sweet torture. And the way her wide brown eyes held his, welcoming all he had to give…

A soft groan slid past Jayce’s lips, as his own hand fitted around his cock.
He squeezed, reliving the feel of her mouth pulling on his head, her velvety tongue coaxing him along. This was no way to push Alyssa out of his mind, but hell, if he didn’t purge this arousal it would plague him all day long. And the last thing he wanted to do was spend the day with Jordan fighting off a hair-trigger erection.

He let the memory take life, reliving the scalding heat of Alyssa’s beautiful mouth, hearing her soft cries of pleasure.
His hand stroked slowly, mimicking the taunting of her fingers. Gliding over him, massaging with the perfect amount of pressure. Hard enough to make him question whether her next squeeze would bring pain or ecstasy. Keeping him on the edge, even as she drew him deeper into ecstasy.

Release bubbled through his veins, rising with each slow deliberate pull of his hand.
He bit down on his lip, grimacing as he fought to draw it out, to keep the memory alive for just a few more seconds.

Yes, Jayce.
God yes.

Her breathless whisper ricocheted through his mind, and holding back became impossible.
His knees buckled as pleasure burst through his body. He gripped his swollen head dimly aware of the warm, wet liquid sliding through his fingers, and gasped for air.

Bit by bit, his surroundings filtered into his awareness.
Hot water rained down on his chest, pelted his abdomen and the hand that held his pulsing cock. Slowly, he released himself and shuddered against the last of his orgasm. With his free hand, he pushed his wet hair out of his face.

“Fuck,” he swore as he swiped at a washcloth.
Sure, he’d taken the edge off, but jacking off left him strangely disappointed. The burn of wanting Alyssa still remained in his veins.

Annoyed by his own weakness, he soaped off quickly and washed his hair.
At least he wouldn’t have her perfume clinging to his skin to drive him out of his mind all day. He’d retrieve his wallet, then take Jordan shopping—that was one sure-fire way to keep Alyssa at bay.

Jayce exited the shower, toweled off, and stalked back to his room once more.
As he snatched his jeans off the floor, Jordan’s voice rang down the hall.

“You up?”

“Yeah.”

A soft knock sounded on his partially closed door.
Jayce fastened his fly. “It’s open,” he called as he grabbed a dark red T-shirt out of the dresser.

His sister sauntered in, dressed in sweats and a workout tank top.
She leaned against the doorframe, one knee bent in front of the other, bare toes pointed on the carpet. An athletic bandage adorned her graceful ankle. “Hungry?”

“Yeah.”
Damn, he was not in the mood for conversation. Not yet. He needed a good two cups of coffee before he could wrap his head around morning. Particularly
this
morning. He shot Jordan a frown. “Did you cook it?”

She chuckled.
“No. I just warmed up cinnamon rolls from the grocery store.”

“Thank God.”
He snatched at his keys and stuffed them in his front jeans pocket.

“Gee, that’s so kind of you.”
A wry smile pulled at her mouth.

“It’s extremely kind of you to not cook.”
With a dry chuckle, he moved beyond her into the hall, heading for the kitchen.

Jordan
followed, years of professional ballet making her steps nearly soundless against the wood floor. “You were out late last night.”

“I was,” he conceded as he pulled out a chair at the table.

“Rough night?” She ventured into the kitchen and pulled a plate down from the cupboard. “You look like hell.”

“Guess so.”
He swore inwardly, aware he was being an ass and unable to stop himself. Jordan didn’t deserve his annoyance. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to discuss Alyssa with her. She’d only make assumptions and ask more questions he couldn’t answer.

She pushed the plate beneath his nose, gave him a lingering glance, then returned to the kitchen.
“Coffee, I take it?”

“That’d be great.
Black please. Two teaspoons of sugar.” The first bite of doughy cinnamon did wonders on his sour mood. Buttery sweetness coated his annoyance, and the need for food overshadowed all else. He devoured the roll before Jordan had finished stirring his coffee.

“Good grief, Jayce,” she remarked with a laugh.

He looked up with a sheepish grin. “Got another one over there?”

Still chuckling,
Jordan set his mug down in front of him and the entire pan of rolls. “Help yourself.”

He fished another out and gestured at her attire.
“Been to the studio?”

Jordan
nodded. “Every morning.”

“How’s that going for you?”
All his sister had ever wanted to do was dance. So much so that their parents had scavenged every spare penny just to get her enrolled in the private high school that focused on dance and the arts. After Jordan’s attack, she’d thrown herself into ballet like it was her last foothold on sanity. He’d heard bits and pieces over the years, enough to know she’d been accepted at the Colorado School of Ballet and had obtained a few minor roles in the company. Pride infused him. Her dedication was flat out astounding.

“Practices for
Nutcracker
are coming up. I’m working my tail off, but I’ve got to stay on top of things with this lead part.” She sank into the chair beside him, holding her own mug in both hands. “I hate driving in to the studio each morning though. I think I’m going to look for an apartment that’s closer.”

Jayce cocked his head and studied her.
He’d missed so much of her life. Failed her once too often. Of all the people he knew in this world, Jordan deserved to succeed. Their parents couldn’t help her—they were barely managing their own mortgage, especially with Jasmine’s wedding weighing on their shoulders. Jasmine
wouldn’t
help Jordan. She wouldn’t even recognize how Jordan pushed herself.

But he could help.
He could maybe even make up for not being there when she needed someone the most. Not fully, but at least he could try. Hell, it wasn’t like he had anyone else to spend his money on.

“How about a house with your own studio?”

Jordan blinked at him, then burst out laughing. “Right. I’ll get right on that when I win the lottery.”

Jayce shook his head.
“No. I didn’t mean that. I’ll help you.”

She blinked, long and slow.
Then with a shake of her head, blinked again. “That’s insane. And it still doesn’t solve the problem that what I make each month wouldn’t cover a mortgage.”

“
Jordan, I’ll buy the damned house. Just pick out something you like that meets your needs.”

Her delicate features scrunched with disbelief as she squinted at him.
“Are you still drunk from last night? Buy me a
house
? We’re not talking a few hundred dollars, Jayce.”

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow.
“I’m well aware what a house costs, Jordan. I didn’t just drop into earth yesterday. Stop arguing. We’ll go look today.”

She stared for a minute, as if she doubted what he’d said, as if she expected him to laugh and scold her for taking him seriously.
When he remained silent, steadily holding her doubtful gaze, a frown returned to her brow. “You have a tux fitting today.”

“I do?”
Damn. How the hell had he failed to remember that?

“In two hours.”
She stood and reached for the pan of rolls.

Jayce hastily grabbed for a third before she could take the pan away.
He took a bite, chugged the rest of his coffee, and pushed out of his chair. “Well, we’ll go after. And I’ll take you to a movie tonight too. But I have to retrieve my wallet from Alyssa’s first.”

The instant Alyssa’s name tumbled free, Jayce’s eyes widened to twice their normal size.
Shit
. He hurried toward the door, intent on escaping before she could connect what he’d just said with the past.

“Alyssa?
The
Alyssa?”

Double shit.
Ten years of undercover work, and not once had he ever put his foot in his mouth the way he had just now. Hell, peoples lives depended on his ability to keep secrets. How could one woman, as unforgettable as she might be, reduce him to such a stupid slip of the tongue?

“Yes,” he ground out tightly and reached for the door knob.

“Is that who you were with last night?” Jordan’s voice filled with disbelief.

Jayce said nothing as he fumbled to pull his keys out of his pocket.

“Oh, my God, it is!” she cried with a laugh. “You’ve been here two days and tracked her down already.”

Jayce bristled.
“I did
not
track her down. And I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Oh, come on, big brother.
I kept your secret all through high school. Can I meet her maybe now that we’re all grown up and not having to hide from her parents?”

“No.”
He jerked the door open.

“Jayce!”

“I said no, Jordan. I’ll call you after my fitting. Be ready to go house shopping.”

Before she could pressure him into a conversation he didn’t want to have, he slipped into the hall and shut her door behind him.
Jordan might have fancy designs on his rekindling things with Alyssa, but nothing more than last night was going to occur. He’d had his night. Now it was time to move on. To move forward and put her behind him once and for all. By the time he picked Jordan up for their realty excursion, he’d figure out something coherent and logical to tell her. Somehow he doubted she’d peacefully accept anything along the lines of
I fucked her, but she’s involved with McTavish.

Halfway to his pickup, Jayce came to a dead stop as the reason why he’d been at Alyssa’s in the first place surfaced in his memory.
Son of a bitch. He was supposed to have called in another operative to handle the security system McTavish wanted him to install. For that matter, he hadn’t even completed much of an evaluation on her house.

Shit—so much for a quick in and out, retrieve his wallet, and run away approach.

Muttering oaths beneath his breath, he reached his truck, jerked open the door, and slid behind the wheel. Much as he’d like to walk away, if Alyssa was in danger, he wouldn’t take that risk. His damned heart wouldn’t let him.